Page 5 of Under the Lights
Running her hands up and down Chase Sanders’s tall, broad body? Maybe burying her fingers in that thick, dark hair? Sure beat the hell out of scrubbing Albert Hough’s vomit off her backseat when she didn’t get him to the drunk tank fast enough.
He leaned his elbow on his door, craning his head around in an obvious attempt to see her. “If you do need to frisk me, feel free to handcuff me first. I won’t struggle... much.”
Ha! No extra treadmill time. “I don’t think handcuffs will be necessary.”
“That’s too bad, Officer...” He was trying to read her name tag, so she stepped forward. “McDonnell?”
She pushed her hat back so he could see her face. “Welcome home, Chase.”
“Holy sh— Coach’s daughter. Just so you know, I’m not usually this cheesy.”
“I’m flattered you dusted it off just for me.”
He smiled at her and she remembered the look well from the countless times he’d used it in high school to get his way with teachers, parents and pretty girls. “Flattered enough to skip the ticket?”
She couldn’t issue a citation for one of their guests of honor two minutes after he rolled into town. “Just this once.”
After he tucked his license back into his wallet and tossed the registration in the glove box, he leaned on the top of the door and looked her over. “So, a cop, huh?”
“A police officer, yes.”
“A woman who likes to be in control.”
She slapped the side of his truck before handcuffs came up again. “How about if I give you an escort to my parents’ house? There’s a new stop sign on Dearborn Street I don’t want you to miss.”
“With lights and sirens?”
“No.” Kelly went back to the SUV, wondering if Chase was watching her walk away in the mirror, and feeling like an idiot for caring.
Once she’d buckled up, she steered out around his truck and drove across town. She might have paused a few extra seconds at each of the stop signs, just to be a smart-ass, but he deserved it for the cheesy—and wholly unoriginal—lines.
When they got to the end of Eagles Lane, which had been renamed the year Chase and his teammates won the championship, Kelly flipped on the light bar. No siren, but the flashing blue added a little splash to his arrival.
By the time she’d pulled to the curb and waved Chase around so he could park in the driveway, her parents were standing on the front porch of the old New Englander–style farmhouse she’d grown up in. Walt, who hadn’t been called anything but Coach for as long as Kelly could remember, and Helen McDonnell were healthy and happy as they headed toward their midfifties, but she could see the signs of strain around their eyes.
Coach was trying to keep his spirits up, especially around his team, but his faith in Kelly’s Hail Mary plan was shaky.
“Sanders!” Her dad met their guest at the halfway point of the walkway and enveloped him in a hug. “How the hell are you, boy?”
“Good to see you, Coach.”
There was some manly back-thumping, and then Chase moved to her mother. “Thank you for inviting me to stay with you, Mrs. McDonnell.”
“It means so much that you came.” She accepted his hug and kissed his cheek. “And don’t you think it’s time you call me Helen?”
“Not quite yet, Mrs. McDonnell.”
“Well, grab your things and we’ll get you settled in.”
“I should warn you, my mother sent a pie.”
Kelly admired the way her mother didn’t grimace, though she’d probably cringed on the inside. Kelly remembered the pies Mrs. Sanders had contributed to the football team’s bake sale fund-raisers back in high school. She was pretty sure some generous supporter had paid to make those pies disappear, leaving filling-smeared empty pans behind to save Mrs. Sanders’s feelings.
“You coming in for a while?” Coach asked her.
“Can’t. I’m on duty until eleven and I have to be in for eight tomorrow morning. In between, I have to shower, eat and hopefully sleep.” She wasn’t complaining, though. She’d been lucky enough to keep her job when budget cuts downsized the department.
“O’Rourke’s at nine?”
